"Hello everyone! Welcome to the first ever meeting for Student Council!"

The room is filled with kids of all grades, and they quietly clap when a girl stands at the front of the crowd, raising her hands and urging us to cheer.

"Wow, we have an even bigger turn out than I expected," she mumbles, just loud enough for the front row to hear. "Hi everyone! My name's Alyssa, and I've been apart of Student Council for three years now."

Alyssa... I recognize her from around school. Dark skin, ebony black hair tied into braids, big brown eyes, tall and slender as far as I can see. She's in the same grade as me, I know that's for sure. And she really is quite pretty, both inside and out. I don't know why I've never spoken to her before.

"Thank you for deciding to join us today," she says. "We're really happy with the number of people we've... accumulated thus far." She giggles at the sophisticated use of wording, and I find myself laughing at her geeky sense of humour.

I think we'll get along really well.

"I figure we could use this meeting to kind of learn more about each other," she starts. "And I know the perfect way we can do that."

The rest of the room falls into whispers when some one hands her two colourful beach balls, all covered in sections of sharpie. There are words written on both of them, and I have to squint my eyes to read what's scribbled on the surface.

"Here's how this is going to work," she begins. "The room will split into two groups, and each group is going to get in a circle and be handed one of these beach balls."

We continue to stare at her as she keeps explaining the rules of the game.

"Someone starts out with the ball, and they throw it to a random person in the circle. When that person catches it, whatever question their hand touches first, they answer it and then throw the ball to someone else." She smiles at us. "Pretty simple, right?"

Some of us nod our heads, others shrug their shoulders.

"It'll be much easier when you try it. Trust me."

Suddenly, everyone gets up from their little plastic chairs, organizing themselves into two groups. I don't plan on staying, only because I wanted to see what Student Council is even about. Hearing about the meeting on the announcements was perfect, knowing I'd needed something to take my mind off of other, less important subjects.

Or people. Definitely people.

That boy makes my feel as though my guts are spilling. My mind is tied in knots, and my heart probably switched places with my kidney, it doesn't feel like it's in the right place at the moment.

I wrap an arm around my middle and stand up from my chair, heading over to Alyssa who's talking with a new member of Student Council.

"Hi, uh, I'm Delta."

She turns to look at me. "Oh, hey!" She holds out her hand for me to shake. "What can I help you with?" Her smile is genuine, enthusiastic, enthralled.

"I can't stay for the whole meeting," I tell her. "I have to go work on something."

I don't sound convincing enough, I know that's for sure, but she just looks at me with that smile on her face and quickly nods her head. "For sure. Student Council meets here every Tuesday at lunch, in case you were wondering."

"What will we be doing at the next meeting? I ask.

"Planning the winter ball," she answers, wiggling her eyebrows.

I give her a sad smile. "Is it alright if I come next week?"

"Of course! There's perks to being friends with the president of Student Council." She winks her eye at me.

We're friends now? My hearts warms at the thought.

I head for the door, waving her off as I enter the hallway.

I turn ahead too soon, bumping into a body that immediately grows stiff. The air turns a jarring cold, and goosebumps rise on my skin. I curse under my breath, cringing when the familiar scent of cologne wafts through my senses.

"Delta." Logan's voice seeps through my ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you."

I look up at him and grimace. Those pale eyes I thought I knew so well had suddenly turned into the pupils of a snake; eerie, grey, and completely untrustworthy.

"Watch where you're fucking going," I hiss.

He looks back at me hurt, furrowing his eyebrows like he can't believe the tone of voice I'm using. He shouldn't be so surprised; he makes me want to pull out every strand of hair on my head.

I march away from him, but he grabs my hand and gently pulls me backwards.

"Get your filthy hands off of me," I growl. "You don't touch me. Don't you ever touch me."

"Delta, I—"

"Save it, Logan." I yank my hand away, rubbing the throbbing skin where his touch had been. His grip was tight. It scared me half way to hell.

He backs away, balling his fists. I watch the clench of his jaw and the furrow of his eyebrows, staring at his eyes thoroughly scanning my face.

I won't back down. I'm hurt. He had hurt me. He deserves to know how I feel. He deserves to know how he makes me feel. Loathe turns to foam in my mouth and spills from my lips.

Without another word, he backs away from me and turns the corner from where he came. It shouldn't matter to me, but I consider myself stupid that it does. Because in those entire two minutes we'd just spoken, he could've said something that at least made me hurt a little bit less than I do.

He could've apologized.

—

"Dick," I muttered, hanging the phone right up on Xavier's face. At that point, I didn't even know what I had just done.

I discovered that my little interaction with Logan yesterday was just what I needed to push me in Xavier's direction.

I consider myself absolutely insane for agreeing to go to that brawl today. My body is still shaking from bumping into Logan at school, and now I might just fall to the floor because I had made plans with none other than Mr. Playboy-Xavier.

He took so long to answer, I was sure I was going to end the call before he picked up the phone. Nonetheless, on the fifth ring, I heard a loud pant on the other line.

I expected his obvious flirty attitude, but I didn't expect his voice to turn flustered once I told him I was coming. I just hope he didn't get the idea I'm actually into him.

I wasn't—I'm not into him. At least, I don't think so. I'd still kick his arse if my life depended on it. He probably lied to me and told me he wanted me, only to hook up with that other girl sometime over the weekend. Now that I think about it, he probably left her too.

No matter how many girls that boy sleeps with, I still don't think anyone will ever get through to him.

I force myself out of my thoughts and park the Dart in the driveway, coming back from dropping off Jack at his friend's place for the afternoon. I walk into the house with a fist over my heart, trying to convince myself I'm ready for tonight... despite being scared out of my mind to see him.

What the hell do I wear? It's a street brawl, people don't exactly dress up in fancy dresses or suits and ties.

Yesterday, I seriously thought about hiding myself underneath a baggy sweatshirt and loose yoga pants, keeping myself covered while I watched the boy I hated get pummeled in a ring. Now, I'm not even sure if a full-blown winter outfit is going to change the fact that I don't even want to go to the fight tonight.

I slowly drag myself upstairs, giving myself mental flip-offs to further fuel the anger I'm feeling. Treading into my room, I slam the door behind me and sulk on the wall, sitting down and burying my head in my knees.

"I'm an idiot." mumble. "I'm such an idiot." There's just so many things to think about. What will happen tonight? Will Xavier win? Where are we going? How are we even getting there? When will he be here to pick me up?

I get up from the floor, heading to my closet and rummaging for an outfit to wear.

I spot a bright crimson dress that's practically skin tight, so starting with that first, I place it over my body. Knowing better than to be elegant, I savagely rip the majority of the length so it ends just under my behind.

Then, I dig around my closet for pants, spotting a spicy pair of netting tights I must've bought a couple years ago. Slipping them on my legs, I lather my tube of red lipstick taut over my mouth. I then stare at myself in the mirror, gawking at my reflection like I'm seeing a ghost.

Holy shit, I actually look... hot.

Haaawwwwwwwwt.

I don't usually picture myself as the attractive type. I mean, I guess I'm okay-looking, but I'm not cute, and I'm certainly not hot.

I have to dress myself silly to look like a decent human being, and even then I either try too hard, or not enough. But crap, I look like I could kill a thousand people with a single glare.

At that moment I hear my phone ring, and I grab my cell from the pocket of my pants, ruffled in a pile on the floor. I grimace when I see Xavier's number on the screen, rolling my eyes and unwillingly answering the call.

"Hi," I sigh, staring at my nails in annoyance.

"I'm here," he says.

He got here at a perfect time. It's six-thirty, an our and a half before my parents are supposed to come home.

"Good," I tell him. "I'm coming."

I think I hear the distant echo of a revving engine in the background, but I don't really pay attention to it. I grab my stilettos and head downstairs, putting them on and stepping outside.

Frick-frack, it's cold. My dress is spaghetti straps and all, and I didn't even bother grabbing a jacket before I headed out the door.

This is going to work out so well.

I see Xavier in our driveway staring at the ground, crossing one leg over another and putting his hands in his pockets. I think he's leaning on a... motorcycle? Is that what I heard over the phone?

He looks up at me, and this is the only moment he decides not to say anything stupid. Or really, anything at all.

I place my arms over my chest while he gawks at me. "Why did you dress like that?" He sounds angry, nothing like I imagined he'd be, and in that moment I realize that I'd spoken to soon. There it is: stupidity leaving his rose petal lips.

" 'Cause," I answer. "Why is that in our driveway?" I point to the bike parked on the gravel, all shiny and black and absolutely beautiful. It looks dangerous, actually.

"Why do you think? It's our ride."

Is he insane? "We're not going in that."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we most-certainly aren't." Can this boy be any more stubborn?

"Yes," he says. "You're getting on the bike."

"Am not!" I shout. "That thing practically screams 'death'! And as you can see, I'm not dressed to get on a motor bike." I gesture to myself, waving my arms in the air as he continues to stare at me.

"No, but you are dressed for other occasions," Xavier says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Perv!" I hiss.

He laughs at me, getting on the motorcycle and patting the seat behind him. "Get on. I have a helmet."

"Well, that's perfect. What about me?"

He rolls his eyes. "The helmet's for you, idiot."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Well what about you then?"

I'm not worrying about him. I'm just making sure he thoroughly thought this plan through. He's doing a terrible job, however. And I'm totally convinced tonight is the night I'll lose all four of my limbs and bleed to death.

"I don't need it, I've done this plenty of times before."

"Oh, I'm sure you have." I scoff. With other girls.

"Just get on the bike." He clicks his tongue, a sigh he's slowly using his temper trying to be patient with me. "You know you want to."

I have to admit, I've always wanted to ride a motorcycle at one point in my life. However, I never wanted to ride one with 1) a playboy in front of me, and 2) wearing a dress that just barely covers my underaged behind.

"Why can't we just take my car?" I ask.

"Where we're going, it isn't exactly 'legal grounds'," he says. "You want someone else to steal your car?"

My eyes widen. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." A mischievous smile plays on his lips, and I resist the urge to punch those perfect teeth right out of his mouth.

"Why bring your own bike then?" I ask.

"It's not mine."

I just stare at him. "You stole it?"

"Not quite." He shrugs his shoulders, puckering his bottom lip in a pout. "Now get on," he demands.

I childishly stick out my tongue at him, though doing as he says and getting on the motorcycle. I look around for any witnesses before I sling my leg over the leather seat, making sure no one's there to see me where I really don't want to be seen.

"Put this on," Xavier says, handing me a bike helmet. I do as he tells me to, squeezing the thing over my head. It smells like coffee and mint, with a little cigarette smoke here and there.

"You smoke?" I ask.

He laughs. "Nope."

This is someone else's bike then.

"Now put your arms around me."

"What? No way."

"You don't wanna die, right?" he asks, turning to look at my eyes through the head cover. "Then put your arms around my stomach."

I'm frowning when my hands snake around his stomach, feeling his leather jacket on my skin. It's surprisingly cold, but when I reach a little further, I can feel the fabric of Xavier's grey T-shirt covering his abdomen. His body turns stiff but he doesn't move from my grip, leaning a little ways back so I can hold onto him just a bit tighter.

"Don't let go of me," he whispers, revving the motorcycle engine.

"I don't plan to."

He smiles, shaking his head. "God, I've always wanted to hear you say that."

a/n; sorry, couldn't help myself. had to put another jonas brother reference in. ;)